


carry me home

by DJBunn3



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Enemies to Lovers, Healing, Hostage Situations, Injured Keith (Voltron), Injured Lance (Voltron), Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sun and Moon Kingdoms, Swordfighting, Tension, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-02-18 19:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13107261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJBunn3/pseuds/DJBunn3
Summary: Lance, a warrior of the Sun Kingdom, is sent into a nearby battle with direct orders to do one thing, and one thing only: take prisoners. A complication on the battlefield leaves him injured and with no other choice than to take a wounded Moon Warrior back to his base as his only hostage.Having only one sick bay in the castle, he’s forced into close proximity with the enemy; an aggressive, defensive, destructive sort-of prince named Keith who he can’t help but feel attracted to. As they heal, Lance begins to realize that the two of them aren’t as different as they may seem, and on top of that, it just might be possible that Keith is attracted to him as well. But with the war raging on and tensions between the two kingdoms high, will he ever be able to find out?





	1. Injury

**Author's Note:**

  * For [datekogyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/datekogyo/gifts).



> For [raerara](https://raerara.tumblr.com/) as a part of the Klance Holiday Exchange 2017! I'm sorry this is only one part of the fic, but I wanted to make something you might actually enjoy based off your prompts instead of a halfhearted oneshot. I hope you like it!

He’s been on battlefields before.

Of _course_ he has. He’s the son of two of the best generals the Army of the Sun has ever had, he’s been raised to follow in their footsteps as a strategist and a warrior. Not that he’s taken well to it--he prefers to go on missions with the explorers, although he hasn’t had much time for that lately. The Sun people have been at war with the Moon Kingdom for months, over political and religious differences that he’d prefer not to think about.

Still, standing in front of a small army of warriors with a sword in his hand and a shield strapped to his arm, Lance feels wrong. He’s not a fighter--he’s a defender at best, and even then he prefers not to hurt his opponent. It’s unlikely that he’ll able to get through the day without injuring--possibly even _killing_ \--a Moon Warrior, even though his assignment isn’t inevitably violent.

_Take prisoners. Hostages. Look for royalty, generals, anyone who might be important. And keep. Them. Alive._

He’s essentially gathering bargaining chips. It’s not the job his mother had wanted for him, but it’s what he’s comfortable with. He can help his kingdom and keep the blood off his own hands, for the most part.

It’s as close to a win-win as he’s going to get.

“Ready, Sir?” a warrior behind him asks. Lance grits his teeth.

“Alright,” he says, setting a hand on the door of the transportation carriage. “Get ready. The carriage leaves at moonhigh.”

The sound of battle grows louder and louder as he pushes the door open and charges onto the battlefield. There’s blood on the ground and screams coming from every angle, and the air is sharp and metallic. Lance tries not to focus on the sun-embellished gold shields and chest plates lying abandoned on the ground, choosing to look around at the faces of the Moon Warriors instead.

He’s keeping an eye out for the silver hair of Moon Kingdom royalty--the Moon Princess Allura and her first lieutenant Shirogane, the prince Lotor and his generals, the Moon King himself. But all he sees are common warriors, the type his parents would call _expendable_.

He raises his shield as a Moon Warrior charges at him, having just enough time to brace for impact before the collision. Gold-tinged sparks fly as his opponent’s sword scrapes against the metal of his shield. Lance holds his ground as the attack ends, then swings with the flat side of his sword. It hits the Moon Warrior in the head with great impact, causing them to fall over, stunned. Lance doesn’t spare them a second glance before running deeper into the battle.

All around him are Moon Warriors, but none of them are important enough to be worthy prisoners. They’re common people, probably raised to die in battle, armed with swords and shields and the knowledge that they’re expendable. It almost makes him sick.

 _This isn’t the time,_ he reminds himself, bringing his shield up and dodging an enemy’s attack. He ducks under a battle axe coming at him and jumps over a pile of discarded armor and fallen soldiers with empty eyes and faces frozen in pain.

He does his best to stay on task, but soon he catches sight of a little girl, probably not more than twelve or thirteen years old, her armorless body bathed in blood as she lies motionless on the ground. The Moon kingdom is sending out soldiers when they’re too young, he thinks, stopping short at the sight. It should be a good sign for them; if the Moon Warriors are getting younger and younger, it must mean that their kingdom is growing desperate. Still, the thought of child warriors out in a battlefield this vicious makes his stomach churn.

A shield hits him square in the chest, and he’s knocked down among the other soldiers. He lands on his shoulder, feels a shallow pain in his side and hears a sharp crack. He lays there for a few seconds, winded and hurt, before struggling up to assess the damage. There’s blood dripping down his side from where a discarded sword poked through a crack in his chestplate, and his left shoulder refuses to support any of his weight. He figures it’s dislocated.

His injuries don’t mean it’s the end of the mission, but they do put him on a time restraint. Years of training and battling have taught him that the cut in his side isn’t terrible, but if he loses too much blood he won’t be able to make it back to the carriage in time. He struggles to his feet, using his right arm to push himself up. His sword and shield lay on the ground in front of him, and he realizes that he can only bring one with him. His sword is the logical answer, being able to provide both offense and defense if necessary. He can survive without a shield for now, at least until he gets back to the carriage with a prisoner.

He should pick up his sword.

He reaches for his shield instead.

The battle rages on around him as he ducks and dodges and runs through the field. The wound on his side protests and his shoulder sends waves of pain through his body whenever he moves it, but he keeps going. This is what he’s been training for, after all.

He reaches the edge of the battlefield, where the forest begins to grow. A few yards forward, the trees begin to grow denser, the foliage perfect for hiding while he looks for a target. _Take prisoners. Look for royalty. Keep them alive._

He leans against the trunk of a tall tree, glancing out at the battle. Everyone he sees is either too powerful or too dead, and none of them are important enough to be considered good hostages. _I need someone valuable_ , he thinks, then shudders. Human lives are all valuable, or at least they should be--but the Moon Kingdom has left common soldiers to die at the hands of the Sun Kingdom before, so a valuable life is a necessity.

A sharp sound to his left catches his attention, something close to a gasp. He turns and sees a Moon Warrior crouched behind the thick foliage peeling off a broken chestplate delicately. The Warrior is injured; badly, by the looks of it. His skin, normally pale as the moon like the rest of his people, is ghostly white, and even from a distance Lance can tell that his hands are shaking. He’s too far gone to be saved, too weak to make it all the way back to the carriage, but…

He looks familiar. Regal. _Valuable_.

Lance is running out of time, anyway. If he doesn’t get a prisoner back to the carriage soon, he might not get back to the carriage _at all_. With that, he makes up his mind and begins to creep forward towards the Moon Warrior. As he draws closer, his target’s face becomes more and more clear, and suddenly he knows exactly who it is he’s sneaking up on. A descendant of the Moon King, the step-brother of the Princess Allura and second heir to the throne: the Moon Prince Keith.

He hadn’t been born into royalty, Lance knows, but had obtained his title when his father had become the ruler of the kingdom. Still, Lance has heard that he acts like he’s been a prince his whole life. Those who’ve gone into battle with him and come out alive have all spoken of his skillful technique and impressive strength. If Lance brought him back to the castle, they’d definitely gain a valuable bargaining chip.

A twig snaps under his foot, and he freezes. Keith seems to have heard it as well. He spins around, hunching over the wound in his stomach and staring suspiciously in Lance’s direction. He scans the area warily, and for a second Lance is sure that he sees him. But then he sighs, shoulders slumping as he relaxes. He’s letting his defenses down, which would be unusual if his wound wasn’t so bad. There’s a chance he won’t even make it back to the castle if Lance chooses to take him back, but it’s definitely a risk worth taking.

Lance is a few feet away now, his shield hovering a few inches off the ground as he decides what to do next. He doesn’t have a weapon with him, but he can probably wrestle Keith’s own sword away from him without too much trouble. If he knocks Keith out, he won’t be able to tell if he’s dead as easily, but keeping him awake runs the risk of him calling attention to them. And running through the battlefield is too risky, which means they’ll have to edge around the outskirts of the clearing.

His shoulder throbs uncomfortably, reminding him of his injuries. The options aren’t exactly ideal, but they’ll have to do for now.

Mind made up, Lance makes his move. He stalks through the forest quietly, keeping his eyes on Keith. His footsteps are light against the forest floor, his breathing shallow and slow. He uses the skills he’s been taught since he was a kid, knowing that one wrong move could give him away and ruin everything.

Luckily, Keith seems to be too hazy to notice any mistakes his own wound might cause him to make. Lance creeps around to get a better angle, sneaking forward inch by inch until he can see the soft black hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. He lunges forward, using his weight to knock Keith to the ground. He attempts to muffle Keith’s startled cry with his hand, but a wave of pain shoots down his arm when he tries to move it. He settles for grabbing the sword with his other hand and holding it above Keith’s chest threateningly.

“Stay quiet,” he commands, glancing around to make sure no one else heard them. Luckily, Keith’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut until he’s sure they’re alone, too. Soldiers coming to check on the commotion could mean trouble for either one of them, after all.

“So? Aren’t you going to kill me?” Keith spits out at last, too weak to do much more than thrash around under Lance. He’s lost a lot of blood, it seems, and the stab wound in his stomach prevents him from throwing Lance off of him.

“Shh!” Lance snaps. “I’m not here to kill you. Not yet.”

Keith glares up at Lance, staring steadily past the sword aimed at his chest.

“You’re coming with me,” Lance says, as way of an explanation. “You’re a hostage now. Don’t try anything, or I swear, I _will_ kill you.”

“And what a way to go _that_ would be,” Keith replies, annoyingly calm. His eyes shift from gray to purple and back again in the dim light. “Being done off by a common Sun Warrior.”

“I’m a highly trained general!” Lance exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. Or, attempting to. His left shoulder protests with a sudden pang, and embarrassingly enough, he cries out. Keith raises an eyebrow, his attention drawn to Lance’s shoulder. With a sudden burst of strength, he rolls to the side, throwing Lance off of him. Lance lands on his injured shoulder, the wind knocked out of his lungs. He struggles to get up, but a heavy shoe pins him down.

Keith stands above him, panting, holding the sword up to his neck. “Are you really?” he asks breathily, staring down at Lance coldly. “Is this what the Sun Kingdom has been reduced to?”

“You’re the ones sending children into battle,” Lance replies. Keith falters for a second, his expression cracking just the tiniest bit. Lance uses the opportunity to push the sword away, kicking Keith off his feet again. He grabs for the sword, but Keith already has a handle on it, drawing it back up to face Lance.

“They were right about you,” Lance says, reaching for his discarded shield. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

And with that, he brings the shield down over Keith’s head.

* * *

Moving an unconscious body by one’s self is always difficult. Doing it one-armed with a light stab wound is even worse.

Lance’s original plan of keeping Keith conscious definitely would have failed him in the end. Keith wouldn’t have cooperated in the slightest, and wrestling him back to the carriage before moonhigh would have been nearly impossible. Still, Lance can’t help but check on him every few minutes, see if his pulse is slowing or his breathing is even. If Keith dies on him, the whole mission will have been pointless.

He’s been walking for what feels like an eternity, and yet they’re only halfway to the carriage. His shoulder is throbbing wildly and his undershirt is stuck to his side with dry blood. At the very least, they haven’t been spotted yet. The battle rages on around them, but they remain unseen on the outskirts.

He’s got his good arm across Keith’s back to support him, Keith’s own arm draped loosely over Lance’s shoulders. He’d abandoned his sword and Keith’s shield a ways back in the forest, and now he’s considering leaving his chestplate as well. It leaves him exposed to any and all attacks coming his way, but it would make carrying Keith _so_ much easier, and maybe take some of the weight off his shoulder as well.

Instead of taking it off, he leans against a tree for a minute and breathes deeply, then reaches over to check Keith’s pulse again. His skin is warm, which Lance thinks is a good sign, although it’s starting to feel clammy as well. Maybe it’s not such a good thing. Maybe his wound’s already infected. His breath is shallow, but at the very least, the bleeding has stopped.

Lance sinks to the ground, catching his breath for a few seconds. He doesn’t have enough time to allow himself a full break, but it’s enough to restore a bit of his strength.

He touches his injured side delicately, wincing when he feels the sharp sting he’d known was coming. _Just a little bit further_ , he tells himself, knowing that it’s not true. If he hadn’t been raised the way he had, he’d have given up by now. But he can’t; he refuses to let down his kingdom. He refuses to give up.

Keith stirs beside him, his dark hair sticking to his forehead. Lance shifts positions, ready for another brawl, but it appears that Keith’s still unconscious.

Okay, time to go. He raises himself off the ground with his good arm, then pulls Keith up as well. The fact that Keith isn’t wearing his chestplate anymore is a great relief to him, but the Moon Warrior is still heavy and awkward to drag around. Lance starts in the direction of the carriage again, keeping an eye out for stray warriors as he goes.

The moon stretches on above them as they walk, the only sounds coming from Keith’s feet as they drag against the ground and Lance’s labored breathing. Every few minutes he swears he feels Keith move, but when he checks Keith is always limp and knocked out.

 _Just a little bit further_ , he reminds himself again, and trudges on.

* * *

He’s beginning to give up hope when a hoarse voice speaks up.

“You’re not gonna make it,” Keith croaks, and Lance doesn’t know if he’s talking to himself or not, but it makes him angry for some inexplicable reason.

“We’re almost there,” he snaps, steadily picking up the pace. It’s not exactly the truth, but saying it aloud gives him hope.

“What are you going to do with me?” Keith asks, voice flaring. “Torture me? Cut off my fingers? I’ve heard how your people are.”

“Shut up,” Lance hisses. “Would you prefer it if I left you here to die?”

“Obviously,” Keith replies, not missing a beat. “Then you couldn’t use me as bait and my kingdom would be much better off. What are you, an idiot?”

“No! I just didn’t realize your will to live was so weak,” Lance retorts, glaring. If it weren’t for his explicit instructions, he’d re-open Keith’s wound and let him bleed out. Something about the way he treats Lance even though his life depends on him, always having some sort of comeback that makes Lance feel like an idiot… It’s infuriating. A part of him wants to leave Keith behind to show him just how unimportant and useless he is, but well… That’s not really a good idea given the position he’s in. Besides, a much bigger part of him wants to succeed with his mission, throw Keith into a cell for a few cycles, and be done with him for good.

So instead of dropping Keith on the very ground they stand on, he secures his arm tighter around Keith’s middle and keeps walking. Now that Keith’s awake, he’s worried that they’ll have to fight again, but it seems that being hit over the head has tired Keith out. At least now he’s picking up his feet and holding onto Lance’s shoulder more tightly, which leads Lance to believe that he actually does have a sense of self preservation after all.

“How far is your carriage?” Keith asks in the same hoarse voice. Lance grits his teeth, willing himself not to snap at his prisoner to _shut up_.

“Not far,” he says with more confidence than he has.

“Where will you take me after we get there?”

“The castle.” Lance keeps his response vague, hoping it will make Keith stop talking so he can focus on getting them back safe. Keith seems to have other ideas.

“What is your name?” he asks, making an effort to turn his head towards Lance. Lance can see moonlight reflected in his eyes, and for a second, he almost blurts it out.

“That’s not important,” he snaps instead, turning away. “Now stop distracting me. We’re going to pick up the pace.”

Luckily, Keith doesn’t seem to have any other questions. They trudge on in silence for a while longer, until some of Lance’s confidence is restored. Maybe he’ll be able to get back to the carriage on time, patch himself up while he waits for the others, and keep Keith alive enough to get back to the carriage.

Keith seems to have lost that will to survive he’d had earlier. He allows himself to be dragged along at a faster speed, but he won’t pick up his feet anymore. Maybe he’d accidentally reopened his wound on his own and now he’s bleeding out again, which would be just wonderful if it weren’t for the fact that Lance needs him to stay alive.

“Hey,” he says, turning to Keith ever so slightly. “Do me a favor and don’t die on me, okay?”

Keith sighs heavily. “That’s not really up to me,” he says, exasperated, and Lance goes back to fantasizing about leaving him in the woods to rot.

Once they’ve traveled a bit more, he glances through the foliage and out to the battlefield. He can sort of see the carriage from where they’re at. It looks to be empty, but he can’t be sure. And with moonhigh approaching so quickly, he’s starting to get nervous again.

“Do you think you could survive it if I cut through the battlefield?” he asks, looking down at Keith.

“Go for it,” Keith mumbles. His head is drooping lower and he almost seems to be getting heavier by the second, which Lance knows probably isn’t the case, but it’s still unhelpful.

Now he has a choice: abandon the safety of the forest and cut through the clearing, which is quicker, but also more dangerous; or stay hidden and risk not making it to the carriage in time, or possibly going too slow and losing his only hostage. While both options seem equally bad to him, he knows logically that going through the battlefield is the less selfish of the two paths. It puts both of them at risk, but if he can get through unnoticed, Keith will have a better chance of survival.

There’s another problem he hasn’t thought of before as well, which is Keith being recognized. If one of his fellow Moon Warriors sees him, it’s more than likely that they’d try to take Lance down and save him. Maybe if he puts his chestplate on Keith and they keep their heads down, they won’t be noticed.

“Stay still,” he says, sinking down to the ground and leaning Keith against the base of another tree. He wishes he could go out and retrieve a different chestplate, but most of the ones on the battlefield have been crushed under corpses or broken open until they’re useless. Taking one of them off a fallen soldier would leave him vulnerable for too long, so that’s not an option either.

Reluctantly, he starts unstrapping his chestplate. It’s not easy when he can only use one hand, and he knows that they’re running out of time quickly, but Keith being recognized would probably take them more time and energy than switching a chestplate. He maneuvers the pieces apart and places them loosely over Keith’s chest, being careful of his injury. Keith watches him with one eye open, not bothering to move even when Lance has to reach around him to adjust the back of the plate.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks in the same infuriatingly even, unconcerned voice that’s starting to drive Lance insane. “Are you trying to protect me or something?”

“I’m- I’m trying to disguise you,” Lance explains, glaring. “Do I need to knock you out again, or are you gonna stay quiet?”

“I don’t know,” Keith replies, almost mockingly. “Take a guess.”

“How about this? If you try to call for help, I’ll kill you.” Lance glares down at Keith threateningly, his hand still fumbling with the chestplate.

“You sure? You don’t seem like the killer type,” Keith says goadingly. Lance sighs.

“Go ahead and take your chances,” he says, lifting Keith up again. They don’t have a shield or sword, and even if they did, it would be impossible for Lance to use one with his dislocated shoulder, and Keith wouldn’t fare any better. He’s definitely taking a big risk, but if worst comes to worst, he can use Keith as a human shield.

They stagger out from the trees, blending in almost seamlessly with the battle raging on around them. Keith’s head is drooped low, either because he’s taken Lance’s warning seriously or from a lack of strength. Either way, Lance is thankful for it. He surges through the clearing as quickly as he’s able to, only raising his head once to glance at the sky. It will be moonhigh in a few mere heartbeats.

“You doing okay?” he whispers to Keith, unsure why. It’s not like asking him will make him any better, and Lance can’t exactly “speed up”, since he’s already going as fast as he can.

“I don’t know…” Keith whispers back, sounding more honest than Lance has heard him so far.

“Hold on a little longer,” Lance says. “I’ll patch you up in the carriage. Just wait a little bit longer.”

He’s not completely sure, but he swears he hears Keith breathe a quiet “Hurry”. Suddenly, Keith’s head drops again and he droops heavier against Lance’s back.

“Keith?” Lance hisses. “Keith? Hey, wake up! We need you!”

“They have the Prince!” somebody yells. Lance whips around and sees two Moon Warriors charging towards him, weapons drawn. He turns back and runs, grabbing Keith’s other arm and slinging it further over his dislocated shoulder like a cape. The wound in his side protests with a sharp flash of pain, and the chestplate he’d draped over Keith before is digging into his back, but he keeps going. He’s in no shape for a fight, and he’d have to surrender Keith to defend himself, so the only choice he has is to escape.

“He’s getting away! Somebody stop him!”

 _There!_ The carriage sits a few yards away from him, injured soldiers already being helped inside by fellow warriors. “Hey!” Lance yells, trying to get their attention. “ _Hey!_ Hold on a second!”

“Hold the door!” one of the warriors yells, catching Lance’s eye. Lance dodges a sword swung wildly at him, but Keith’s weight on his back throws him off balance and he stumbles, hitting his head on the way down. Vaguely, he can feel hands circling around his wrists, a pair of arms wrapping around his waist, and Keith’s body being pulled off of him. His vision is going fuzzy and his side is hurting again, like it might have reopened. He watches with glazed eyes as whoever’s carrying him approaches the carriage, only closing them once he’s been set inside.

He feels the brush of something soft against his bare shoulder, like a head resting against him, but he only vaguely recognizes the sensation and he’s fading too quickly to think about it any more.

His last thoughts before he drifts off are fuzzy, but he thinks they might be wondering about if Keith was taken into the carriage as well.


	2. Illusion

Lance’s head is pounding, his side feels like it’s on fire, and there are sounds all around him that are too loud and too overwhelming. He tries to open his eyes, but the light in the room is too intense and it makes his head hurt even more.

“Keep still,” a soothing voice commands, one which he immediately recognizes as the medic Hunk’s. He does his best to stop moving, even as Hunk douses his wound with a firey, stinging liquid. Hunk spreads some sort of ointment over the flesh around the wound, then moves onto Lance’s shoulder. It feels swollen and painful to the touch, and when Hunk takes a hold of his upper arm and starts to push, he can’t help but thrash out of Hunk’s grip.

“I know,” Hunk says soothingly, hands coming up to rest on Lance’s uninjured shoulder. “It won’t get better if I can’t put it back in the socket. I promise, it will only hurt for a second.”

Lance groans, trying to straighten himself out. He’s sweating heavily and his heart is thumping in his chest like it’s trying to escape. Hunk secures his arm again, then pushes upwards with force. Lance feels a terrible snapping sensation throughout his whole body, crying out in pain.

“It’s over, it’s over,” Hunk says, one hand coming up to feel Lance’s forehead. “You’re gonna be okay now.”

Lance pants unevenly, hands clutched in the sheets of the bed. He must be in the infirmary, he figures, opening his eyes a tiny bit to look around. The harsh light makes it hard to see what else is going on in the room.

“You have a concussion,” Hunk says, covering Lance’s eyes with one of his hands. “Keep these closed for now.”

“Keith,” Lance coughs out, trying to push Hunk’s hand away. His voice comes out rough and scratchy. “Where is Keith?” he asks.

“He’s alive,” Hunk assures him. “Don’t worry, you did it. He’s in emergency treatment right now, and then he’ll be staying in a recovery room until he’s strong enough to survive the dungeon.”

“He’s alive?” Lance croaks.

“Alive and unconscious. The Queen is figuring out what to do with him right now.” Hunk pats his head gently. “You did a good job out there, buddy. You did it.”

“Good.”

Lance can’t keep track of what Hunk says after that. His head hurts too much to listen anymore, and soon enough he finds himself drifting off.

* * *

He has strange, feverish dreams when he falls asleep.

Dreams of being a young child, hearing his mother’s voice call out instructions as he spars with another child. She’d been his friend, he remembers, for as long as he’d known her. Her long brown hair sways back and forth in its ponytail as they fight with their blunt, wooden swords.

Lance moves quickly, but the girl is faster. She kicks his feet out from under him, holding the tip of her sword against his throat when he crashes to the ground.

“Good,” Lance’s mother says, walking over to stand next to them. “Lena, take a break. Lance, stay for a minute.”

Lance swallows, staring down at the floor while Lena reluctantly goes to stand by the door. He knows what’s coming--it’s happened before, whenever he doesn’t fight well enough, but that doesn’t make it any easier to handle.

“Your lunges are sloppy,” his mother snaps. “That’s the third time this week you’ve been beaten by one of your peers. I’m beginning to think you aren’t being trained hard enough.”

“I’m doing my best,” Lance says, feeling his stomach churn. Ever since his mom took over the training of his class, it’s like nothing he does ever pleases her. She’s hard on everyone, which at least makes him feel a little better. Still, it feels like she becomes an entirely different person when she’s training them.

“Are you?” his mother sighs, shaking her head. “Because I _know_ you can do better. I’ve seen it before. Why are you going easy on your peers?”

“I’m not!” Lance protests. “Lena is a really good warrior. She’s gonna be a general someday, like you!”

“Lena is admirable, but she’s not general material.” Lance’s mother glances over at the doorway, where Lena is drinking from a canteen. “There’s something off about her family… I wouldn’t get too close to her.”

Lance glares. “Don’t talk about my friend like that!”

Almost immediately, his mother deflates. “I’m sorry, Lance,” she says. “You’re right, I shouldn’t say things like that. It’s been a hard week. Just- focus on your training for now, alright?”

“Yes, Mami,” Lance says, bowing his head and directing his gaze at the floor instead. He feels a gentle hand on his cheek, a kiss pressed onto his forehead lightly.

“I love you, you know,” his mother says. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“Yes, Mami,” he says again, but she’s already pulling away.

“You okay?” someone asks from behind him. He turns to see Lena approaching timidly.

“Yeah,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry you got in trouble. I didn’t mean to make her mad at you.”

Lance shrugs, straightening up and putting on a grin. “Don’t worry about it. You were awesome! Where did you even learn to fight like that?”

“My dad taught me,” Lena explains. “He says he wants me to be extra prepared.”

“Why?” Lance asks, looking around at the training room. “We all get the same training here. Does he think you’re weak or something?”

“He said I shouldn’t talk about it,” Lena says quietly, looking away. “But I can show you the things he taught me if you want.”

“Will you?”

“Of course! We can practice them together,” Lena says. “Just don’t let people know where you learned them, okay?”

Lance nods, casting another glance around. His mother has moved on to coaching another pair of children, and the rest of the trainers and guards are busy as well. “Okay,” he agrees, turning back to Lena. “Show me what you’ve got.”

* * *

When he wakes again, he’s in a different room. There’s a window, but it’s got bars over it, and an extra bed as well. The walls are blank and lifeless.

There’s a commotion coming from the door. Lance strains to make out the conversation, but when the voices raise in volume, he finds that he doesn’t need to try so hard.

“We can’t put him in here!” one voice is saying, sounding almost offended.

“We have no choice. All the other rooms are completely full, and he’s in no shape to survive in the dungeons.”

“But Lance-”

“This is our only option. Bring him in.”

The last part is said a bit louder, and it’s followed by a couple of Sun guards entering the room with a stretcher between them. Lance squints blearily at the figure laying on the stretcher. They have dark, soft-looking hair and they look strong and graceful, even slumped across a sheet like they are.

“Keith?” he whispers, blinking rapidly. Even though it comes out as quiet as a mouse, the figure still opens their eyes and blinks back. Lance sees multi-faceted indigo, constantly shifting color even for the few seconds that Keith’s eyes are open.

He tries to turn his head and follow the guards’ motions, but the room suddenly starts spinning and he has to close his eyes against the wave of nausea it causes.

* * *

In his dreams, he’s in the dungeon.

Not locked up, obviously. He’s here for a reason, but for now it’s not coming to him. Instead he finds himself thinking about being a little kid and following his father into the dungeons, listening to him explain the different reasons someone could be locked up down there. They’d passed an occupied cell on their way further in, and Lance had watched as the prisoner inside met his gaze and flinched away.

“How long has he been down here?” he whispers, pulling at his father’s sleeve.

“Don’t worry about him, dear,” his father had replied. “Stay close to me, okay?”

Lance shudders, wiping the memory from his mind and focusing on the task at hand. He rounds a corner, coming into an open cell out of view of the main hall. He waits for a second while his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, then steps further inside.

“Lena?” he calls, glancing around. “Are you- _Ahh!_ ”

He’s cut off as a hand clamps over his mouth, a second arm snaking around his neck and pulling him off his feet. Lance stumbles, trying to pull away in a brief moment of panic before he hears familiar laughter.

“You’re too predictable,” Lena says, withdrawing her arms. Lance grins, brushing himself off.

“I guess I’ve still got a lot to learn,” he says, turning towards her. They’ve been meeting in the dungeon to practice everything that Lena’s dad teaches her whenever they have the chance, starting way back over a year and a half ago. Usually Lena will a leave a vague note in his room, something like _practice tomorrow?_ or _you free after lunch?_ , and if he’s not there at the agreed upon time, she leaves. Lance doesn’t exactly know why they’re keeping all this extra practice a secret, but Lena seems pretty serious about not letting anybody else know. They never talk about why, but Lance has a feeling that it has something to do with the strict rules the Sun Kingdom enforces on them. Learning alternate fighting techniques isn’t exactly forbidden, but it’s not something people would talk about out loud, either.

“You can say that again,” Lena says teasingly, leading him further into the cell. “I totally caught you.”

“I just wasn’t expecting it, okay?”

Lena laughs, tying her hair up into a ponytail. “Yeah, I know. Now, are you ready?”

“If you are,” Lance says, glancing back at the hallway for a second. “Are you sure we have time for this, though? You don’t have anywhere to be?”

“Not for a while,” Lena replies, brushing a few loose strands of hair away from her face. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna come looking for us anytime soon.”

“Alright, then. What are we doing today?”

Lena grins, catlike, reaching for Lance’s hand. “It’s gonna be great,” she says excitedly. “I’m gonna show you how to beat the Sun Warriors in a battle!”

“Beat the Sun Warriors?” Lance repeats, frowning. “You mean like, counter all the moves my mom teaches us?”

“Yeah!” Lena exclaims. “Obviously you could use the stuff we’ve been working on to beat them, too, but this stuff is designed _specifically_ to counter the classic moves everyone learns in training. It’s awesome!”

“But why would we need to beat Sun Warriors?” Lance asks, frowning deeper. “They’re on our side. Shouldn’t we be learning stuff to use against Moon Warriors?”

“Oh- well, if you, uh… If someone were to turn on you for, uh, some reason, you could hold them off!”

“Why would a Sun Warrior attack me?”

Lena frowns. “There are bad people out there, Lance. What if someone in the Kingdom goes corrupt? You might have to fight them so you can get away and report them.”

“You really think someone would do that?” Lance asks. “Betray the Kingdom?”

“Some people really… don’t agree with the way the Sun Kingdom is run,” Lena says, looking away. “All the rules, the conformity, everything… It’s really frustrating sometimes, you know? Like they’re trying to take away everyone’s identity.”

“Lena…” Lance says nervously. “Is that… Is that what _you_ think?”

“What? _No!_ I don’t think- No, that was just an example!” Lena exclaims. “Besides, the only reason my dad was able to learn these moves is because we already _know_ the basic Sun Warrior moves. We can’t counter what we don’t know, right?”

“Oh. Right.” Lance finds himself nodding, even though her words still don’t sit right with him. Lena sounded so different just a few seconds ago, when she was talking about the Sun Kingdom. But surely she couldn’t actually mean that stuff, could she?

“Here, let’s warm up with what you know,” Lena says, taking a defensive position. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” Lance says, shaking the thoughts from his mind. Lena would never think about the Sun Kingdom that way. It’s their home, after all. She was just giving an example…

Right?

* * *

The third time Lance wakes up, he manages to stay conscious for just a bit longer. His head is still pounding, but it’s more of a steady ache than a harsh, pulsing rhythm. He runs a hand down his wounded side gently, feeling rough bandages stretched across his rib cage. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it had before, but he can still feel its presence. He lies still for a minute, trying not to provoke his injuries into bursting back into pain, but his body feels too stiff and uncomfortable to stay in the same position for much longer.

He rolls over to face the door, but when the wound in his side protests, he has to roll over again. So his wounds aren’t healed you--they were just numb. He closes his eyes against the flash of pain, waiting until it subdues to open them and look around. The room is dimly lit, the only source of light being the barred-off window he’d seen before, but there’s something different about it this time. A second person, lying in the bed next to his.

Lance balks, wincing as his side protests. _Keith_ is in his room, lying unconscious only a few feet away. _Why?_ Shouldn’t he be in the dungeon by now?

An image flashes into his head--Keith being carried into the room by two guards, his side bandaged heavily, eyes opening for just a second to meet Lance’s. _That’s right,_ he thinks. _There wasn’t enough room in the castle for us to have separate rooms, and he’s not well enough to stay in the dungeon._

He looks back over at Keith, seeing for the first time that his hands are secured to the sides of the bed with thick metal cuffs. Keith _does_ look a lot better than he had the last time Lance had seen him. His skin’s regained some of its color, and he’s breathing evenly. He almost looks… peaceful. Lance sighs, glaring at the side of Keith’s head as if he can will his enemy out of existence. There’s no way he’ll be able to relax or sleep or _anything_ if he knows Keith is there the whole time. Letting his guard down is out of the question now.

Keith shifts in his sleep, rolling to the side to face Lance. For the first time, Lance notices the bandage around his head as well, covered almost entirely by his hair. He must have hit Keith a lot harder than he’d meant to back in the forest.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. Why should he feel sorry for hurting Keith? He’s the _enemy_ . And hopefully he’ll be out of Lance’s hair sooner than later, because Lance does _not_ want to spend however long it takes him to heal stuck in a tiny, one-window room with Keith.

He hears the door open and cranes his neck to see who it is. Hunk pokes his head inside, then pushes a cart full of bandages and medicine through the doorway. “Hey,” he whispers, flashing a quick smile. His eyes dart between Keith’s sleeping figure and Lance’s face nervously, although he does his best not to show it.

“Hunk,” Lance says, laying his head down again.

“Did they tell you why Keith’s here?” Hunk asks, busying himself with the bandages o the cart.

“Yeah,” Lance says. “Did we really run out of room for the injured?”

Hunk nods wearily. “You wouldn’t know, since you’re not around the infirmaries much, but we’re completely packed. This war is really thinning us out, huh?”

Lance doesn’t respond, choosing instead to watch Hunk work. His hands are shaking slightly, and he looks absolutely exhausted. Even though Hunk’s only been working as a medic for a year, he’s already so different than he had been on his first day. Lance remembers watching Hunk follow an older medic into the infirmary, eyes bright and excited. He’d been so happy to be able to help people, especially after training for so long.

The Hunk that stands in front of him today is tired, worn down from the constant work the war brings him. He tears off a strip of cloth bandage and walks over to Lance’s bed.

“Can you sit up?” he prompts gently.

“I think so,” Lance says, pushing himself into a sitting position. His shoulder aches for a second, and he winces.

“It’s still giving you trouble?” Hunk asks, looking concerned.

“It’s fine,” Lance replies, shaking his head. “I’m sure it will go away soon.”

Hunk doesn’t seem convinced, but he lets the subject drop anyway. He unwraps the bandages around Lance’s wound, then cleans it off with a damp cloth. Lance does his best to stay still, but he can’t help but flinch away a few times. Hunk sets the cloth down and re-wraps Lance’s side, then helps him lay back down again.

“Unless you need anything else, I should get going. Tell me if anything gets worse, okay?” he says, setting everything back down on the cart. Lance frowns, looking over at Keith.

“You’re not gonna work on him?” he asks. Hunk looks sheepish.

“I don’t want to wake him up,” he says quietly, looking away. “Plus, the dude’s kind of scary, you know?”

“I guess,” Lance says with a half-hearted shrug. Maybe Keith would be scary if he were fully healed, but after seeing him about to bleed out on the battlefield, it’s hard to be intimidated by him.

“I’ll be back later, alright?” Hunk promises, pulling the cart into the hallway. The door closes behind him with a soft thud.

Lance sighs, settling back down in his bed. There’s nothing to do in the infirmary room, no books to read or maps to study, and he obviously can’t train in here, so he figures he may as well go back to sleep.

“So, you really _do_ have personalities,” a voice from across the room says. Lance turns to the other bed, where Keith is laying with his eyes open.

“I thought you were asleep,” he says, glaring. “And _of course_ we have personalities. We’re not robots, you know.”

“Could have fooled me, with the way the Sun Kingdom manufactures you and all,” Keith snaps. He’s lying on his back again, staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression on his face.

“What would you know about the Sun Kingdom?”  Lance scoffs. Keith doesn’t seem fazed.

“I know that you’re as controlled as puppets on strings,” he says. “I know that you’re all raised the same and trained the same until your parents decide what to do with you. You didn’t even want to be a general, did you?”

“I- You don’t know anything about me,” Lance growls. “Nothing.”

“Thanks to the guards, I know your name is Lance Acosta,” Keith says. “And I also know you don’t think your Sun Kingdom is as perfect as you say you do.”

“I never said it was perfect!” Lance exclaims, sitting up in his bed. “But I’m happy here. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Keith replies evenly. “What was it that you said, again? _All the rules, the conformity, like they’re trying to take away everyone’s identity_ , wasn’t it?”

Lance freezes. “How did you…”

“You talk in your sleep,” Keith says, still staring up at the ceiling. The jerk won’t even turn to face Lance as he insults him? “If you really feel that way about your own kingdom, then you’re no better to them than I am.”

“That’s not true!” Lance exclaims. “I don’t think that about the kingdom at all! It was just part of a dream.”

“That’s not any better,” Keith scoffs. “If you’re dreaming about it, you must really believe it.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Lance protests, gripping the sheets in his fists. “It was more like a memory. Somebody that I used to know said that once.”

“Really,” Keith says, sounding not at all interested. Lance huffs indignantly.

“Just shut up, okay?” he grumbles. “Let’s just ignore each other until they send you down to the dungeon.”

“Gladly,” Keith replies snippily, closing his eyes. Since he woke up, he’s barely changed position. He just lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling with his arms at his side, stiff and unmoving. Lance wonders if being around him is really making Keith this uncomfortable. He imagines being in Keith’s position, wounded and chained to an infirmary bed in enemy territory with no hope of being saved anytime soon. It’s a little bit scarier than he’d like to admit, but it’s not like they’re not raised to expect things like this.

Maybe the Moon Kingdom doesn’t prepare their citizens for hostage situations as well as the Sun Kingdom does, or maybe Keith never expected to actually get caught. Either way, it shows how truly disorganized and unprepared the Moon Kingdom is, along with the whole child warriors thing from the battlefield. Keith has some nerve commenting on the methods of the Sun Kingdom when his own people are just as bad-

 _Twice as bad_ , he corrects himself. _The Sun Kingdom hasn’t done anything wrong._

“Would you stop staring at me?” Keith snaps. Lance looks away quickly, face heating up.

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so freaking stiff,” he mumbles. Keith practically hisses in response.

“I’m stiff because I’m in pain, you idiot,” he admits through gritted teeth.

“What? What do you mean?”

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Lance swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. Aside from the pins and needles he’d been expecting, his legs feel almost normal. The room spins for a second, but it rights itself quickly.

Keith eyes him with suspicion as he walks over to the other bed, sneering when he stops a foot away. “Go away,” he snaps, and for a second Lance can see genuine fear in his eyes.

“What do you mean you’re in pain?” he demands again. “Is it your head?”

“No, it’s- Just forget it,” Keith says, turning his head away and wincing.

“No, tell me. Is it your wound?”

“I-” Keith turns back, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out across his face. “I think so,” he mumbles, breathing shakily. Lance hesitates for a second.

“Should I find a medic?” he asks, turning towards the door. The room tilts again, and he has to reach out and hold onto the shelf above the beds to keep from falling.

“Don’t,” Keith says. “I heard your friend on the way out. Those medics… They’d sooner see me die than take care of the enemy.”

“That’s not true!” Lance protests. “I bet Hunk would help you out. If you hadn’t been pretending to be asleep when he was here, he could have fixed you up earlier.”

“I didn’t want him to,” Keith snaps. “I don’t want their help. The sooner I die, the better for my kingdom.”

“Wha- Are you serious?!” Lance exclaims. “You’re just gonna lie there and suffer until you die?”

“I was planning on sleeping through it, but you wouldn’t let me,” Keith says.

“You’re insane.”

“Everything is insane. We’re in the middle of a war, after all.”

Lance sighs in frustration, looking around the room. Most of the medical supplies live on the carts the medics are always pushing around, but there has to be _something_ he can use around here. Despite the fact that he’s a total dick who doesn’t seem to take the Sun Kingdom seriously at all, Lance sort of doesn’t want him to die. After all, they need him to stay alive as a hostage.

But it’s more than that, too. He’s proud of himself for bringing Keith back alive, and if they’re gonna be stuck in close proximity for the next who knows how long, he’s not about to let Keith die. Not after all they’ve gone through, everything he’d risked just to bring Keith back.

His eyes land on a roll of medical gauze misplaced haphazardly on the shelf above them. He reaches up and feels the gauze between his fingers. It feels like the cloth the caretakers use to make cheese in the kitchen, but a bit thicker and softer.

 _Maybe this will work,_ he thinks, grabbing it off the shelf and turning back to Keith. “Here, let me-” he starts, reaching out towards Keith. Almost immediately, Keith thrashes away.

“ _Aagh!_ What are- _Ugh_ ,” Keith groans, both hands moving to hover over the wound in his stomach. His breathing gets heavier as he tries to stay still, and his eyes are glazed over with pain. Lance raises his hands up in a placating gesture, still holding the gauzy cloth.

“I just want to help,” he says slowly, like he’s talking to a scared animal. Keith seems to bristle at his tone, but he doesn’t move.

“Why would you want to help me?” he pants, seeming to get even more tense. “You just want to use me to negotiate with my kingdom.”

“That may be true,” Lance says, taking a step forward. “But it’s not the only reason. If we’re gonna be stuck together for a while, I’d rather not have to listen to you slowly dying.”

“How sympathetic of you,” Keith replies, eyeing him warily. “But I don’t want your help.”

“Keith, you don’t have much of a choice,” Lance says, glaring. “Either I do this, or a medic does.”

Keith glares back, his face a mix of pain, fear, and frustration. “Fine,” he hisses eventually, moving his hands away. “I doubt you have any medical knowledge to speak of, anyway. You might even kill me faster.”

“I’m just going to look for now,” Lance says with a sigh, resisting the urge to call Keith out for being the moody teenager that he is. He’s more mature than that. He’s a warrior of the Sun Kingdom, after all, and warriors of the Sun Kingdom don’t get in childish fights with the enemy. They do what’s best for their kingdom, and right now, that’s ensuring that Keith stays alive.

He moves the sheet away from Keith’s chest, being careful to stay out of reach of his hands. The chains cuffing his arms to the bed are short, but they do have some leeway. If he was in the wrong position and wasn’t paying attention, Keith might be able to hurt him.

The bandages around Keith’s stomach are applied much more heavily than Lance’s are. Cautiously, he picks at the edge of one of them, trying his best not to aggravate Keith’s wound any more than necessary. He pulls at the bandage until it peels off, then starts on the second one. They seem to be laid out in haphazard horizontal rows over a thin patch of cotton. No wonder Keith is in pain; the bandages are sloppy and already covered with dried blood. It wouldn’t surprise Lance if they didn’t give Keith any medicine or pain relievers, either. They probably just bandaged him up and figured it was good enough.

“Be careful,” Keith snaps, but his voice wavers.

“I will,” Lance replies with more certainty than he has. Sure, he’s watched Hunk patch people up before, but his medical experience is more than lacking.

He unwraps the rest of the bandages and inhales sharply. Keith’s wound doesn’t look much better than it had back on the battlefield. In fact, the skin around it looks pretty bad, too.

“I…” Lance glances up at Keith, who stares back unblinkingly. “I think we should get a medic.”

“What? No, don’t!” Keith protests, shrinking away from him.

“It looks really bad,” Lance says. “I don’t know how to-”

“Then just leave it alone, okay?” Keith looks at him seriously, pleading. “ _Please_.”

He doesn’t sound like the fierce warrior Lance had always heard people talk about. He sounds like he had back on the battlefield, quietly begging Lance to hurry back to the carriage before it was too late. Lance stares at him for a second, conflicted. It’s not like he _wants_ to keep Keith alive, but he doesn’t want to do Keith any favors either, especially if it means the Sun Kingdom might lose a valuable person like him.

“No… I’ll do it,” he decides, turning back to the room. There isn’t anything of use on the shelves, but there is a cup of water sitting on the small bedside table next to him. Hunk must have left it there when Lance wasn’t looking.

He grabs the cup and turns back to Keith. They don’t have any sanitary cloths or rags, so he takes the corner of Keith’s bedsheet and dips it into the cup. _Well, it’s better than nothing,_ he figures, setting the cup down again and squeezing a little bit of the water out. He can feel Keith’s eyes on him as he moves, leaning over Keith’s bed and touching the sheet to Keith’s stomach. Keith sucks in a shaky breath but stays still as Lance wipes at the wound with gentle motions, until the dried blood is gone. After a couple of minutes, Keith seems to be relaxing.

Lance sets the sheet down and reaches for the gauze bandages. They probably aren’t the best things for the job, but they’re all he has right now.

He tears off a piece of gauze and carefully smoothes it over Keith’s stomach, repeating until everything’s bandaged securely again. Only then does he look up at Keith, who’s staring at him with an intense, unreadable expression on his face.

Despite his brain screaming at him to turn away, go back to his bed and forget that any of this ever happened, Lance finds himself staring back. He’s had plenty of opportunities to look at Keith since he woke up, and he’s taken advantage of a fair amount of them, but now that Keith’s eyes are open and he’s looking directly at Lance, it’s a totally different story. He’s not looking because Keith is the enemy anymore. He’s looking because Keith’s eyes are a thousand shades of a color he can’t name and they seem to be looking right through to his most hidden secrets. It’s like they’re connected in this singular moment, although he knows that can’t be true. They’re completely different people, after all. Keith is the enemy, and as much as it seems like he understands Lance better than anyone in his own kingdom, it can’t be true. Keith can’t possibly understand.

Right?

A knock comes from the other side of the door startles both of them out of their trance. Lance looks back and forth between the door and Keith, who looks away quickly, face red. He hurries back to his own bed at a speed that makes him dizzy, pulling the top sheet back and climbing under.

 _What just happened?_ he wonders, turning onto his side so that he’s facing away from Keith. His own wound protests again, but he can’t bring himself to turn over. He and Keith had just had a _moment_ , some type of mutual understanding, or maybe something more. Something he hasn’t felt with anyone since-

A guard opens the door, probably coming in to check on Keith. Lance closes his eyes and tries to even out his breathing, hoping his beating heart isn’t actually as loud as it sounds to him. He has to get out of this room--and the sooner, the better.

He can’t let that happen again.


	3. Recovery

“Are you happy here?”

Lena looks up at him questioningly, eyebrows drawn together. “Why do you ask?”

“You can’t answer my question with another question,” Lance protests, crossing his arms. He really is too old to do that--it makes him feel like a pouty child instead of the teen warrior that he is--but he does anyway.

Lena snorts, rolling her eyes.

“I’m serious!” Lance exclaims. “I want to know.”

“Well… Why wouldn’t I be?” Lena says, looking down at her feet. They’re sitting on the balcony of Lance’s new room, a medium sized bedroom in a corner of the castle reserved for important members of the army. Lance’s parents have always lived in the castle, but this is the first time he’ll have a room of his own. Lena had been offered the same, but she’s still deciding on whether or not she’ll move in.

Lance swings his legs back and forth. “I don’t know… You’ve been talking about leaving to explore a lot.”

“So what? We both like to explore,” Lena says. “I mean, unless you’ve changed your mind about that.”

“You know I haven’t,” Lance says, shaking his head. “But when you talk about it nowadays, it just… sounds like you want to escape.”

Lena is quiet for a minute. Lance watches as she stares down at the kingdom, her long brown hair swinging back and forth in its ponytail. “You asked me if I’m happy here,” she says finally. “Well, what about you?”

“Of course I’m happy here,” Lance says, frowning. “I live in the castle. I’ve got my parents, and Hunk, and you. I’m going to be a general soon.”

“Yeah, but is that what  _ you _ want?”

Now it’s Lance’s turn to be silent. He can feel Lena’s eyes on him, but he refuses to look her way.

“I’ve trained for this for years, Lena,” he says, spreading his fingers out against the ground. “I was practically raised to do this! Of course it’s what I want.”

“Really?” Lena raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Don’t you ever want more than that? Doesn’t exploring the outer regions make you happier than all those war strategies you have to study?”

“Of course, but that’s just because I don’t get to do it a lot!” Lance protests. “It’s unrealistic to want to explore all the time. We have jobs to do now.”

“But what if our job  _ was _ exploring?” Lena says, leaning forward. “What if we didn’t have to deal with the war? We could just exist without having to worry about problems we didn’t create.”

“If you wanted to be an explorer, it’s a few years too late for that,” Lance says bitterly.

“I don’t want to be an explorer,” Lena replies quietly. “I want…”

* * *

“Hey, Lance. Wake up, buddy.”

Lance stirs, opening one eye hesitantly. Hunk stands above him, holding a tray of food and a fresh glass of water. He looks even more tired than he had the day before, and his smile looks like it’s already halfway to a grimace. “Breakfast time,” he says quietly, setting the food down on the bedside table.

“Thanks,” Lance says. His mouth feels dry and cottony, and he reaches for the glass quickly.

“How are you feeling?” Hunk asks, concerned. “Is your shoulder still hurting you?”

Lance takes a gulp of water, sets his cup down, and rolls his shoulder experimentally. Aside from the stiffness that comes from staying in bed for too long, he can’t feel anything wrong with it. His side still aches and his head pounds, but he doesn’t feel as dizzy when he sits up anymore.

“I’m good,” he says, looking back up at Hunk. “Whatever you did when I got here worked pretty well.”

“That’s good to hear,” Hunk sighs, looking relieved. “I was worried about you.”

“You think I’ll be able to go back to my room anytime soon?” Lance asks hopefully, glancing at the door, then back at his friend. Hunk shrugs.

“You lost a lot of blood on the way over,” he says. “And I heard you hit your head pretty hard. You’ll probably have to stay another day or two, at least until we know that your wound’s not infected.”

“But I feel fine!” Lance protests.

“I believe you, dude, but your parents aren’t gonna go for you hurting yourself again if we let you out this early.” Hunk looks at him sympathetically. “Is being around Keith as terrible as it sounds? We can try to get you moved to another room.”

Lance’s first instinct is to shout  _ Yes! _ and beg Hunk to ask as quickly as possible, but something stops him. He remembers Keith lying in bed the day before, helpless to anything and everything. He thinks about Keith’s messily bandaged injury and Hunk’s unwillingness to help him when he’d last been here, and that weird moment between the two of them when he was cleaning Keith’s wound.

He thinks,  _ If no one else will keep Keith alive, then it’s up to me _ .

“I’ll stay here,” he says. Hunk looks surprised.

“Really? Isn’t he kind of scary, though?” he asks, glancing over at Keith nervously. “I thought you’d jump at the opportunity to get out of here.”

“It’s not like he can attack me or anything,” Lance says skeptically. “And I’m only gonna be here a little bit longer, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“If you’re sure…” Hunk looks back at the door, where his cart is full of trays of breakfast. “Alright. I have to go check up on the others, but tell me if you change your mind, okay? I’ll be back later.”

“I will,” Lance promises, waving as his friend leaves. Once the door is closed, he sighs and looks down at his plate. There are a few pieces of bread with butter, a sliced apple, and some grapes. It’s a pretty basic breakfast, but he’s still glad to have something to eat.

He looks over at Keith for the first time that morning, watching his chest rise and fall evenly under the sheet. Keith looks a lot more relaxed in his sleep, although Lance would never say it out loud.

Hunk hadn’t left any food for Keith, he realizes, glancing back down at his plate. That can’t be good for the healing process, especially since his condition is considerably worse than Lance’s. If this is how they treat hostages while they’re in the infirmary, Lance  _ really _ doesn’t want to think about what life in the dungeon is like.

“Keith,” he whispers, although they’re the only two in the room.  Keith barely stirs.

“Hey wake up,” he says, louder this time. “You have to eat.”

Keith rolls over so he’s facing the window.

“Not cool, man.” Lance swings his legs off the side of the bed, carrying his plate with him. He shouldn’t be putting this much effort into making sure his enemy doesn’t die, but something about the idea of letting Keith starve or bleed to death while he’s able to do something about it doesn’t sit right with him.

“I’ve got food,” he says, standing next to Keith’s bed. “You should eat. They’re not going to bring anything for you.”

Keith groans, pulling the sheet around himself tighter. If Lance didn’t know exactly who he was and what he’s like out on the battlefield, he’d find it endearing. Instead he feels himself getting annoyed. Here he is, sticking his neck out for someone who he should be treating the same way that everyone else is, and Keith doesn’t even care.

“You really aren’t a morning person, huh,” he grumbles, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Keith opens one eye and looks up at him suspiciously.

“I’m fine,” he says when Lance holds out a piece of bread.

“You’re not starving yourself on my watch,” Lance says persistently. “Come on, eat something.”

“No,” Keith snaps, refusing to turn over. “Leave me alone.”

“We both know I’m not gonna do that,” Lance says, moving closer. Keith could probably loop the chain of his handcuffs around his neck and choke him if he were feeling up to it, but instead he just shoots Lance another annoyed look.

“I liked it better when you were trying to kill me,” he says.

“I was never trying to kill you! I was  _ trying  _ to bring you back as a prisoner,” Lance argues. “And anyway, if I’d known we’d end up in the same room, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Obviously the last part isn’t true, but he doesn’t bother taking it back. Keith sighs, finally turning over to face Lance.

“If I eat something, will you get off my bed?” he grumbles, staring at the piece of bread. Lance guesses that he’s more hungry than he’s letting on, if his expression is anything to go by.

“ _ After _ you’ve eaten something, I will,” he promises, holding out the bread. Keith glares at it for a second longer, then untangles his arm from the sheets and takes it. Lance watches as he takes a cautious bite, then another. He finishes the first piece of bread quickly and barely even protests when Lance offers him another.

After he’s sure Keith is done being dramatic, Lance takes a bite out of his own bread. It’s a little dry, but he’s hungry enough to ignore it. He eats two pieces, then splits the last in half.

“Grapes or apples?” he asks, pushing himself further onto the bed. Keith sighs.

“I don’t care. Apples.”

Lance scoffs, sliding the apple slices to one side of the plate. Clearly Keith doesn’t understand the obvious superiority of grapes, which is perfectly fine by him.

“What, you’re even judging my choice of fruit?” Keith snaps, glaring at the apples. “For a Sun Warrior, you sure have a lot of opinions.”

“For the last time, we’re  _ not robots _ ,” Lance groans. “Why do you keep saying stuff like that?”

“I told you why already. It’s true, isn’t it?” Keith replies. “You guys aren’t allowed to be your own people. If you don’t live up to the mold, you’re cast out onto the streets.”

“Oh yeah? At least we aren’t the ones sending  _ kids _ into a  _ war _ ,” Lance retorts. “Sure, it’s a little boring here, but at least we’ve got our shit together. What’s even going on in your kingdom anymore?”

“We’re-!” Keith glares, mouth working silently to find a response. “It’s not like that. Those kids aren’t- I mean, we’re not-!”

“You’re not  _ what _ ?” Lance taunts. Sure, he might be being a little cruel, but after Keith said all that stuff about the Sun Kingdom, he doesn’t care anymore. “Not running out of options? Not a chaotic mess of unworthy leaders who don’t know what they’re doing?”

“Shut up!” Keith yells, sitting up on the bed. The plate of fruit falls to the floor. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Of course I do,” Lance replies. “I  _ saw _ it out there. You can’t deny the truth forever. Your kingdom is a  _ mess _ .”

Keith’s eyes flash like two shooting stars. Lance glares into them, unable to look away from Keith’s intense expression. He should move out of Keith’s reach before it’s too late, but he’s paralyzed in the moment.

“We’re not!” Keith protests, getting even more worked up. “You’re wrong. The Moon Kingdom is strong. We have a plan, it’s just-”

“ _ Sure _ you have a plan,” Lance says scornfully. “And that would be…?”

“What, you think I’m just gonna blurt it out?” Keith scoffs. “You really  _ are _ an idiot if you think I’m that gullible.”

“ _ You’re _ the idiot if you think I believe that,” Lance snaps, glaring. Keith glares back, like he isn’t the one who started this. Like he hasn’t been insulting Lance and his kingdom left and right since they got stuck together.

“You don’t understand,” Keith grumbles again. “We’re in the middle of a  _ war _ . Sorry if we don’t have time to pick grapes and have tea parties or whatever.”

“You think we’re  _ not _ busy with the war?” Lance counters, raising an eyebrow. “If we weren’t already spread thin, the two of us wouldn’t even be in the same room. But that’s no excuse for letting the kingdom fall into chaos!”

“The Moon Kingdom is strong,” Keith repeats through gritted teeth. “We’re doing everything we can. The Princess and her guard and the Queen and everyone. They’re doing what they can. And the King-”

“What about the King?” Lance says when Keith cuts himself off. He looks like he regrets bringing up the King at all, which is interesting considering it’s his father. Is he having doubts, too?

Not that Lance is having doubts about his own kingdom, of course. It’s just that Keith’s kind of gotten in his head with all his talk of conformity in the Sun Kingdom. It’s not like Lance actually  _ believes _ any of that stuff. Sure, it’s not the first time he’s thought about it, but that doesn’t mean he agrees with everything Keith thinks. With everything  _ Lena _ thought.

“The King-” Keith starts, unaware of Lance’s racing thoughts. Lance shakes his head, steeling himself. Keith’s getting to him too much, and it’s time to change that.

“Admit it,” he snaps, going in for the kill. “Your king’s old and confused and leading you into destruction. He doesn’t know what he’s doing any more than you do. Soon enough, your Kingdom will be in shambles and you’ll be begging for a place in the Sun Kingdom.”

Keith’s eyes flash again, his eyebrows drawn together in a glare that Lance could probably feel from across the kingdom. “Take that back,” he growls, dangerously low.

“What, you can’t handle the truth? Did I hit a nerve, Prince Keith?”

“Shut up!” Keith cries.

“Make me!” Lance yells back, regretting it almost immediately. Keith lets out a frustrated half-groan half-scream and lunges forward with more strength than Lance had thought he’d be able to muster with that wound in his stomach. Keith knocks him backwards, the chains around his wrists jangling noisily as he pins Lance’s hands against the bed.  _ This is it, _ Lance thinks in a split second.  _ This is how I die. _

But he doesn’t. Keith makes no moves to strangle him or hit him or suffocate him. Instead, he bends down and takes Lance’s lower lip between his, kissing him roughly. Lance jerks away, more in surprise than disgust, staring up at Keith with his eyes blown wide. Keith hovers above him for a second, glaring down at him, seemingly stuck between letting him up and kissing him again.

Every instinct the Sun Kingdom has drilled into Lance’s head is telling him to throw Keith off and escape, but some deeper, more natural instinct compels him to prop himself up with one of his arms and use the other to drag Keith down to him. Keith closes his eyes as their lips meet again, but Lance keeps his wide open on instinct. Keith pushes him back down and curls his fingers in Lance’s short hair, his other hand going to Lance’s hip. Lance’s hand curls around the back of Keith’s neck roughly.

_ I shouldn’t feel like this, _ he thinks, making no move to pull away again.  _ He’s an enemy… an outsider… I shouldn’t be so attracted to him, so why… _

“You’re different,” Keith breathes as he moves away for a split second, and even though he doesn’t specify  _ different than me _ or  _ different than your people _ , Lance understands. Because Keith is  _ different _ , too.

Maybe that’s why.

* * *

Some time later, Lance rolls off the bed and starts picking up the grapes that have scattered all over the floor. His side barely protests to all the movement, although his head aches a fair bit. He can feel Keith’s eyes on him as he moves around the room, but he refuses to meet his roommate’s gaze. To be honest, he’s scared of what he’ll find if he does.

He and Keith kissed. A lot. And it was really nice, even though it shouldn’t have been. It made him forget about all his newly reawakened doubts and the war and his uncertain future for a while, although those thoughts are rushing back to him now. At least the front of his mind is filled with worry about Keith now, so there’s no room for anything else.  _ Will Keith want to do that again, or was it a one-time thing? What if it wasn’t? _

_ What if it  _ was _? _

He doesn’t know which would be worse. On one hand, relationships with enemies are quite obviously forbidden, and for good reason. The two kingdoms have been enemies since as long as Lance has been alive, and they weren’t exactly on friendly terms even before the war. It’s not like the two of them could ever trust each other not to betray one another, or even stay together for much longer than they already have. But on the other hand, Keith is the first one Lance has connected with in months, even if he couldn’t recognize it at first, and Lance is  _ never _ wrong about a connection like this. He’s only felt like this once before, and it’s not like that person’s coming back anytime soon.

“What are you thinking?” Keith asks, speaking up for the first time since  _ you’re different _ . Lance pauses, hand halfway extended towards a grape under his bed.

“I don’t know,” he says, because he doesn’t. The sheets rustle as Keith moves, metal chains clinking against one another.

“You don’t know what you’re thinking?” he asks. “Or you’re thinking you don’t know?”

“I don’t know,” Lance says again, reaching under the bed for the grape. He stands, setting the plate aside and finally turning towards the other bed. Keith is sitting with his legs swung over the side, looking up at him with a face as unreadable as ever.

“We’re enemies,” he says simply. “There’s no way we can…”

“Yeah…” Lance shakes his head, trying not to let his disappointment show. Of course Keith doesn’t want whatever happened in the last hour to happen again. That’s what’s best for both of them, anyway.

“But,” Keith says. “I don’t think I’m ready to accept that yet.”

Lance stares at him, mouth hanging open. “What?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Keith continues, keeping his expression neutral. “I don’t know  _ why _ I’m feeling like this. I should hate you, and maybe I still do, but… I don’t think this is stockholm syndrome or anything. I mean, it feels  _ real _ … Lance, you feel it, too, don’t you?”

Lance swallows. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah.”

“So maybe…” A flicker of nervousness flashes across Keith’s face before it goes back to its steadily controlled expression. “Maybe we just, you know, go for it. For as long as we can.”

“In secret?” Lance asks, glancing back at the door.

“Yeah,” Keith says, following his gaze. “Until I get thrown in jail or sold back to my kingdom or- or killed.”

Lance swallows again, thinking of the bodies on the battlefield. Keith may be an adult in the eyes of the kingdoms, but he’s still so young… They both are. He finds himself wishing that living till twenty-five wasn’t such a rare thing for soldiers like them.

“Okay,” he says tentatively, still unsure of exactly what he’s agreeing to. Keith seems to relax a little.

“Okay,” he repeats. “I believe you.”

* * *

They spend the rest of the day kissing (in Keith’s bed, because of the chains) and sleeping (in their separate beds, because of the guards and Hunk) and lying in silence (in both beds, because there aren’t any other options). Neither of them bring up the kingdom’s problems, although they weigh heavily on Lance’s mind most of the time. He alternates between thinking about getting caught with Keith and the things Keith said before their first kiss, switching back and forth over and over until he makes himself sick and moves to whichever bed he isn’t currently on. Keith doesn’t talk about the Moon Kingdom, but Lance would bet pretty much anything that he’s thinking similar things.

Hunk comes in a few times more, during which Keith pretends to be asleep and Lance pretends to be in more pain than he is, because Hunk’s talking about getting him back to his real bedroom and he doesn’t want that right now. Once he leaves, Lance climbs into Keith’s bed and talks about nothing for a while until Keith shuts him up with a kiss.

Night falls, Hunk says his goodbye for the day, and Lance finally goes back to his own bed for good. Sleeping in the same bed is tempting, but also a bad idea considering Keith could totally kill him at any time, and the guards might walk in on them the next morning if he didn’t. Keith sleeps on his back so he doesn’t aggravate his stomach, but Lance curls up on his side to watch him anyway. His eyes droop with exhaustion, even though he hasn’t done anything remotely tiring all day. (Well, depending on one’s definition of “tiring”.)

Despite his best efforts, he finds himself dropping off to sleep, falling back into the strange world of his dreams.

* * *

There’s a series of sharp knocks on his bedroom door, startling him awake. Lance sits up quickly, throwing the thick gold blankets off his bed and dropping to the floor on light feet. He pads over to the door quietly, cracking it open and peering out.

Lena pushes the rest of the way through, burying her face in his chest and letting out a terrible sob. Lance stumbles backwards, steadying himself against the wall with one arm and wrapping his other around his friend. “What is it?” he whispers, glancing out through the door before closing it behind them. Lena doesn’t appear to have been followed, so he figures they’re both relatively safe for now.

“It’s-” Lena chokes out, but she’s crying too hard to get the words out. Lance rubs her back soothingly, pulling her to the bed and shushing her. He’s never been the best at comforting people, but he and Lena are close enough that he knows how to help her calm down.

“Take a few deep breaths, okay?” he urges her as they sit down. “Just breathe. You’re okay, okay? I promise.”

“Okay,” Lena replies shakily, breath hitching a few times. Lance breathes deeply and she follows his lead, until she’s calm enough to talk.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she starts, “but I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“What do you mean?” Lance asks. “What happened?”

“It’s- They took my dad,” Lena whispers, wiping at her face. “They arrested him.”

“They arrested your dad?” Lance asks, shocked. Lena’s dad is a model citizen, and his daughter is an exceptional warrior for the kingdom. What reason could they possibly have for…

“They found out he’d been training soldiers without the kingdom’s permission,” Lena continues. “You know those moves he’s been teaching me? They’re illegal.”

“It’s illegal to fight like that?”

“It’s conspiring against the kingdom.” Lena sniffs miserably. “They think he wants to overthrow them. Nobody knows who he was training, but they’re going to tighten up security around the dungeons and training areas.”

“So we can’t train together anymore,” Lance says, almost to himself. He’s always liked training with Lena, but lately it’s become his favorite part of the day. It feels good, having something for just the two of them. He can’t explain why, but it just  _ does _ .

He’s always been close with Lena, but nowadays they feel even closer than before. Something about her--the way she thinks, the way she speaks--it’s just…  _ different _ . He’s never felt anything like it before.

“No more special training,” Lena says quietly. “You can’t tell anyone about it, either. And absolutely no using those moves in battle training, either, or you’ll be arrested as well.”

“What about you?” Lance asks, turning to her. “You’re his daughter. Aren’t they gonna be pretty suspicious of you?”

“They are,” Lena admits. “I’ve seen them watching me out of the corners of their eyes. You can’t tell them all that stuff I said about the kingdom, Lance,  _ please _ .”

“Of course not,” Lance assures her, reaching for her hand. He intertwines their fingers comfortingly. “I won’t let them do anything to you, okay? And anything I can do for your dad, I’ll do it.”

“You mean that?” Lena says hopefully, looking up at him.

“Of course.”

She sighs, leaning against him and letting herself relax. “Thank you, Lance,” she says, squeezing his hand. “That makes me feel a lot better.”

Lance squeezes back. “I mean it,” he whispers. “Whatever it takes. I love you, you know?”

“I love you, too,” Lena repeats. But she sounds far away, like the words don’t mean the same thing to her that they do to him.


End file.
